


six times jeff has issues in the bedroom

by cathedralhearts



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathedralhearts/pseuds/cathedralhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff has a thing about giving Mike what he wants... but only when he's on his back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	six times jeff has issues in the bedroom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [armillarysphere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/armillarysphere/gifts).



> For Von, who said to me at 2.23 this morning "Now I want fic where Jeff insists on fucking Mike face on all the time because the back tattoo puts him off."
> 
> (his tattoo [is really not good](http://www.whatsupyasieve.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/richards6.jpg))

1\. The first time they fuck, Jeff tells Mike to get on his hands and knees because it's "easier". Mike's 19 and doesn't know any better — Jeff's older and although Mike calls the shots in their friendship (relationship?), he's willing to defer to the extra month of life experience when it comes to dick-in-ass action.

It's kind of shit, because of course it is. Jeff takes ages to open him up, and pushes in too fast. Mike almost bucks him off and punches him for good measure when he wines and asks _how much longer?_ Mike would like to see him try and take those inches a hole not exactly built for it.

Jeff fucks erratically, stopping and starting constantly, and he keeps palming at Mike's shoulder, his hands slipping as they get sweatier and there's less traction. 

"The fuck ... are you _doing?_ " Mike groans out, as Jeff kind of leans all over the top of him. It changes the angle of his dick inside Mike's ass a little, means it hurts less and there's the beginning of something like _pleasure_ shooting up his spine, but it's still bad.

"What?" Jeff grunts back, and Mike shakes his head and elbows at Jeff until he leans back.

Mike only comes when Jeff gets a hand on him and brings him off with his fancy handwork, because he’s starting to go soft at how uncomfortable it is. Jeff pulls out as soon as he shoots over the bed, pushing Mike onto his back into the wet patch and looming over him, his hand working hard. He comes seconds later and collapses besides Mike, breathing hard.

"That was fucking shithouse," Mike spits out when he figures Jeff's brain is mostly back online. Jeff looks embarrassed.

"Sorry, I was — distracted," he finally says. Mike's jaw drops.

"Who else were you fucking thinking about, while my ass was getting sacrificed?!" he exclaims, and Jeff rolls his eyes and gets out of bed, heading toward the bathroom.

"Nobody, jeez!"

Mike isn't convinced, and doesn't like the way it makes him feel.

 

 

2\. They don't try again for months — Mike's pissed off because he thinks Jeff's thinking about someone other than him when they're together, and Jeff's weak in his protestations. 

Jeff's 20th birthday falls while they’re at Worlds, Mike as team captain and Jeff as one of Canada’s goal scoring machines. Mike's also decided he’s finally recovered enough from the disaster of their first time, and is willing to give it another shot. 

He's been researching in his spare time — looking up disturbing websites on Google and going through bottles of lube between jerk off sessions with Jeff. He figures Jeff just didn't hit his prostate right or something, and next time will be better. He wants to get it right, because the dudes in porn look like they’re having a good time, and he’s all about increasing mutual orgasms and the fun involved getting there. 

So, it's New Years Eve and they're having a party in Mike and Jeff’s room with their teammates. It can’t be anything wild; they’ve got the semis against the Czech Republic in a couple of days, but they can spend tomorrow recovering. Mike has a cake hidden away in the fridge for Jeff to cut at midnight, and he's got a super cheesy reveal for when they stagger into bed, involving red ribbons and body parts. 

Unfortunately, the night does not go to Mike’s epic plan. 

Jeff gets shitfaced off Molson early, impressively located and snuck in by Bergy and Getzlaf, and Mike's forced to make sure he doesn't choke and die on his vomit while he pukes in their bath. After that, he passes out on the floor and sleeps through the fireworks, and Mike tries to wake him with increasing frustration. 

He gives up and kicks him, heading back out to the party and tries to drink himself stupid. He’s too mad and it doesn’t work, so he sulks until Jeff reappears an hour later, when the guys are starting to leave. Jeff seems almost completely sober, which is good. Mike wants him to remember the chewing out he’s going to administer when everyone leave.

"What an awesome and shitty birthday," Jeff comments as they stand at the doorway and watch their teammates stagger off. Mike snorts and goes to shove past Jeff, but Jeff catches his arm and makes an unhappy face as the door shuts behind them.

"I'm sorry I ruined your birthday plans. Bergy told me..." he trails off, and Mike sighs and shrugs. He’s still mad, sure, but Jeff looks upset enough that he figures he’s good for guilting Jeff doing _all_ the house chores for at least the next two weeks. 

"Whatever, we'll have cake for breakfast,” he offers up, shaking Jeff off.

Jeff follows him to their beds, and hipchecks him onto his. "It's my birthday. Where's my present?" he asks, and Mike rolls his eyes.

"You pissed me off. I don't know if you get your present," he says and Jeff slides onto the bed, straddling him and leaning down to kiss him.

"I'm definitely getting a present tonight," he says, voice low. It sends a shiver down Mike's spine.

"Okay," is all he can manage.

~

Mike insists on more prep than last time, digging the almost empty container of lube out from his toiletries bag. Jeff, however, insists he’s on his back this time. "What? Why?" he asks, and Jeff looks incredibly guilty for a second.  
“Just, c’mon. I wanna see your face,” Jeff says, and Mike frowns but lets Jeff press into him. 

The angle is even worse than last time, even when Jeff adds a pillow, and Mike winces with every push until Jeff moves closer, drops his hips and pushes Mike’s knee up against his chest. His next thrust is punctuated with a blinding pleasure shooting up Mike’s spine, causing him to almost white out.

“Holy... holy _shit_!” he exclaims, and Jeff grins and continues to hit that same spot over and over until Mike’s coming, his hand only getting to stroke him once. He shudders and rides out the waves, pulling Jeff in until his face is against Mike’s neck, licking and sucking as grinds down against him. 

He comes and moans out Mike’s name, and Mike chews on his bottom lip, trying to stop the smile at the sound. He likes — he likes Jeff calling out his name far too much for whatever it is that they’re doing. 

Jeff pulls out and throw the condom away, wiping Mike’s chest up and flopping into the bed, pulling Mike closer to his side.

“Distracted this time?” Mike asks sleepily, and Jeff laughs.

“Nope,” is all he says.

 

 

3\. The night Mike turns 21, he's drunk and handsy as they stumble out the club. He can finally legally drink in this fucking city, and he’s taking advantage of it until he can’t pull on Flyers colours any more. 

Jeff, for what it’s worth, is holding him upright and looking far too amused, even though he’s just as fucked — if not worse. Mike’s pretty sure he was smoking up in a back room, because he stinks of weed. There’s paparazzi around, light flashing in their eyes, and Mike fucking _hates_ it but Jeff gets him into a cab before Mike can say anything that’ll get them yelled at tomorrow. Jeff gives the cabbie the address of Mike’s new apartment, freshly housewarmed with an epic party the weekend before, and settles against his side, drawing patterns on the windows.

They’re quiet until they get inside, and Mike uses what few extra pounds he has on Jeff, pushing him up against the wall and kissing him deep and filthy, licking into his mouth and biting on his lip. Jeff presses his fingers into the ridges of Mike’s spine, and giggles.

“Feels funny,” he huffs out against Mike’s mouth, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“Dumb shit. Who even smokes weed anymore, anyway?” he slurs, grabbing for Jeff’s hand and tugging him into his room. Jeff just starts whining about the beer being shit, and Mike manages to get his shirt off and presses a knee against Jeff’s crotch, feeling the hardness.

“Fuck me,” Jeff reaches for him, and Mike shakes his head.

“Nope, it’s my birthday. You fuck _me_ ,” he says, and crowds into Jeff, kissing him and moving along his jaw, to his collarbone. Jeff whines and grinds up, but Mike just rolls onto his stomach and pulls Jeff on top of him.  
Jeff starts fingering him, and Mike’s getting really into it when Jeff suddenly stops and pulls out.

“—the _fuck_?” Mike hisses, and looks over his shoulder. Jeff’s staring at his back, looking terrified.

“What the hell, Jeff?” Mike turns around, and Jeff shakes his head, unable to speak. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks again, trying to move closer, but Jeff pushes him away.

“Your tattoo! The — it keeps — it keeps _moving_!” he hisses and Mike sighs and rubs his face. He just wants to have sex, and Jeff’s having a paranoid mental break. Fucking marijuana. 

“I promise it’s not moving. Look, I’ll lie on my back and suffocate it. Is that better?” he asks, lying down. Jeff frowns and it takes forever for Mike to convince him to slowly move back in front, and Mike has to rub himself the entire time to stay hard. He’s still ridiculously horny and wants Jeff inside him, but he’s kind of worried about his best friend’s mental health right now.

Jeff just shrugs when he deems it ‘safe’ and puts his fingers back inside Mike, curling and hitting his prostate, causing him to arch up and wring his fingers in the bed sheets. He moves and takes Mike in his mouth, sucking him down in time with his fingers. It isn’t long before Mike tipping over the edge and coming loudly, Jeff swallowing him and pulling back. 

He wipes his hands off on the bedsheets and lies down next to Mike, a smile on his face. “No more moving tattoo,” he says, pressing a kiss to Mike’s shoulder blade. Mike rolls his eyes and moves over, grabbing at Jeff and starting to stroke him, tight and fast like he likes.

“Nope, no more moving tattoo,” he echoes and kisses Jeff, taking every moan and bite as it comes.

 

 

4\. When Mike gets the C, he makes Jeff have sex with him while he wears his jersey, the new letter stitched over his chest. 

It’s a little strange, he’ll admit that. If things were different with Jeff, if they hadn’t been banging on and off for years and he felt less comfortable asking for — well, bizarre things — he probably wouldn’t have even bothered.

But, it is what it is, and they are what they are, so he’s on his hands and knees on his bed, Jeff pounding in behind him, his fingers tangled in the bottom of the jersey.

After they’ve both come and Jeff’s snoring next to him, does Mike realises that it’s the first time for years that he’s gotten it from behind like that. Probably the first time since that incident on his birthday, where Jeff thought his tattoo was moving. _Weird_. 

 

 

5\. Mike picks Jeff up from the airport with Arnold in the backseat, and can’t wipe the fucking smile off his face. Jeff’s finally _here_ , they’re finally together again, and he can finally have Jeff more than a couple times a season — Skype sex just isn’t the same. Jeff looks exactly the same and hugs Arnold the entire car ride home, chatting a million miles a minute at Mike about anything and everything. He’s usually a quiet guy, so Mike knows this is — this is a big deal.

They get inside and Mike pulls himself up against the nearest wall, tugging Jeff behind him and wriggling his ass against Jeff’s dick.

“Fuck me,” he says, and Jeff moans and bites at the joint of his neck and shoulder.

“Bed?” he asks and Mike shakes his head. He’s waited far too long for this shit. He goes to take his shirt off, but Jeff stops him and gets down on his knees instead.

“What the fu— _oh, God_ —” 

Jeff rims him until Mike can barely stand, and then fucks into him without a condom after shakily asking if that’s — if he’s allowed to. Mike has to squeeze his eyes shut and lean his head against the wall when he tells Jeff it’s okay, and the feel of him pushing inside without any barriers is intense. It’s probably the most intimate experience of his life, and Mike wants to feel all of him like this, wants it to never stop. 

“Jeff,” Mike moans out, his shirt sticking to his back and arms with sweat, the water making patterns against the light grey material. Jeff just grunts a reply, his fingers digging into Mike’s hips. It’s exactly what he wants when he grabs Jeff’s left hand and laces their fingers together, pressing them closer against the wall. 

~

“You’re so weird,” Mike comments later, after they’ve showered and Jeff’s slumped on the couch, Arnold in his arms and dozing. 

“What?” Jeff asks, blinking blearily at Mike.

“You and your weird sex things. You never want to do me from behind anymore. Why?” he asks, and Jeff looks a lot more awake.

“It’s not — it’s not a thing, _God_. I told you ages ago, I just like seeing your face,” he says, looking down at Arnold. Mike rolls his eyes. He knows Jeff’s lying, but whatever. He’s far too happy from the post-orgasm haze and having Jeff here to really give a shit. 

 

 

+1. They’re in Vegas on the Cup tour and Mike’s on his back on their ridiculously massive hotel bed, Jeff working on his cock, sloppy and wet like he likes. His fingers are deep in Mike’s ass, getting him ready, and Mike goes to roll onto his front when Jeff stops him with a hard palm against his hip. 

“Alright, seriously now. What the fuck is your issue?” he exclaims, finally sick of it, and Jeff pulls off with a loud _pop_. He looks debauched; his hair crazy from Mike’s fingers running through it, spit coating his mouth and chin, lips cherry red from the abuse.

“Huh?” he asks, looking dazed.

“You never — God, I don’t know. You have some weird thing about my back or something. What the hell is going on? Ever since we were 19, I can think of maybe two occasions you haven’t been fucking weird about it.”

Jeff looks guilty, and Mike knows he knows he’s busted. “It’s — nothing, I just like seeing your face,” he tries and Mike glares.

“You always say that, and I know it’s bullshit! You spend most of your time staring at the wall or like, with your eyes shut. So, try again.” he says and Jeff looks unhappily at the ground.

“Alright, alright. I just — your fucking, God this is stupid. Your back tattoo, it’s really shit and distracts me. The first time we had sex, it was so bad because... well, because we didn’t know what we were doing, but... the entire time I was staring at it, thinking how bad it looked.”

Mike blinks, a hand going unconsciously for his shoulderblade. He’d gotten it when he was 18; it wasn’t that impressive. He never really saw it unless he made an effort, anyway. 

“...seriously?” he asks, and Jeff shrugs.

“What can I say?”

“So, instead of _talking to me_ like a normal human being, you’ve spent the past like, seven years fucking me on my back or weirdly making me keep my shirt on so you don’t have to stare at my _tattoo_?” he asks, and Jeff wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Do I still get to have sex, or are you super mad about this?” he asks, and Mike glares and gets on his hands and knees.

“You’re gonna fuck me like this, and you’re gonna stare at my tattoo until you like it,” he says, and Jeff pulls a face.

“Mi- _ike_ ,” he whines, but Mike keeps staring over his shoulder until he sighs loudly, getting to his feet and crawling onto the bed. 

“God, it’s so ugly...” Jeff mutters and Mike grins as he feels Jeff push inside him, his fingers gripping hard at his hips. 

“You’re ugly,” Mike shoots back and Jeff laughs as he starts thrusting, holding Mike steady against him.


End file.
